A dear friend used to say ‘it’s better to be rich and healthy than poor and sick.’ Hard to argue with. But what about the fear of being sick, the fear of being poor? How bad is that? My answer: Extraordinarily.
Right now I’m an absolute news junkie. I’m promising myself to stop after the election, but for now I’m hearing the daily drip of news and just about every word is scary. It’s almost impossible for me, or probably anyone not on Mars or under a rock, to escape the bad economic news. Happily I have Mellow Monkey to soothe my anxiety when I’m thrown off my game. And I’m glad of it. It’s all natural, has other positive effects and is non-addictive. Plus, I make the stuff, so I know how good it is.
But how else are we cope with this current crisis mentality and its attendant fear and anxiety mongering? I wrote an article on this which I’ll put up soon, but here’s the bottom line: It’s never about what your facing, it’s always about how you face it.
Speaking of facing it: where do you think we spend most of our time? IN OUR HEAD! Obviously. Whether it’s sex or work or anything else, it’s not what’s happening around us, but in us that makes the difference. It’s that non-stop inner tape that infuses our feelings and our actions. And therefore our judgment and decisions. Yikes! Talk about scary! Unless we know how to handle our self-talk.
My advice for crisis times: listen in more than you listen out. When your repetetive words are negative, substitute them with positives. If that doesn’t do it, stop. Meditate. Listen to a tape, take a bath, go for a run — whatever recharges you. Take Mellow Monkey (or whatever non-addictive herbal remedy you choose) and tap into your inner strength. It’s there. It’s indominatable. It will carry you until your best is back.
Sure a pound of anxiety can go through you like a poison, but an ounce of inner balance is the best antidote!
Here’s a few did you knows. Did you know that spelt is the grandmother of wheat? Been around for thousands of years. It’s much higher in protein than commercial wheat — like 10 – 25 % higher.
Did you know kamut is also about 6,000 years old, and carries the Egyptian name for wheat. It’s kin to durham wheat. Much higher in protein than regular wheat, like 20 – 40 % and other goodies too like a lot more amino acids and vitamins.
Did you know that most people have sensitivities to commercial wheat? Not surprising. It has been hybridized for commercial purposes. Topping the list of modifications is that it can sit on the shelf without going bad. I suppose that’s good.What’s bad? It does the same thing in our stomachs.
It resists our digestive juices. Result. Poor absorption of whatever nutrients are there — at best. Generally though there’s the extra added attraction of bloating, gas and intestinal discomfort. Appetizing. Yummy.
Have you heard of xylitol? It’s not sugar, it’s a sugar alcohol. Vive la difference! A lot less calories, zero carbs, safe for diabetics, and seems to prevent tooth decay.
Oh, one other did-ya-know. Flour left for more than 24 hours before it is baked loses 90 (that’s 90) percent of its nutritional value.
So here’s my point. We got a grinder it’s expensive – but not necessary if you live near a good store where you can grind your own. We got a bread machine. Cheap. For a high-protein delicious bread I combine kamut/2 C, spelt 1 1/4 C and 3/4 C rye (for a nice kick). If I’m around I set the bread machine to dough, shape it let it rise 30 min and bake it in the oven 30 min. I generally add pumpkin or sunflower seeds, sometimes nuts. You can put anything in that suits your fancy.
Result? You know what you’re eating, it’s delicious and it’s good for you. Then there’s the sex. Oh that’s right. This was about bread. Bummer.
Like other young couples wildly in lust, when my not-yet husband and I got together we made love anywhere and everywhere. I guess the worst of it was the time we couldn’t wait to get home from our bike ride along the Donau near Vienna and we both ended up filled with mosquito bites. Or perhaps it was that time on the tram. Oh well, that’s not the point. My point is that we baked bread. Hand grinder, pounding the dough and all that. It was Vienna 1979 and I’m not sure we ever managed to make a loaf without getting all over each other.
Here we are 28 years of marriage later, and again baking bread. This time with an electric grinder and a bread machine. Life is a lot easier. But that’s not my point either. What I want to say is it isn’t any different. Sometimes I’ll put the machine on dough setting and then bake it in the oven so it doesn’t have that wierd boxey shape from the machine. Hey, that’s even when my husband isn’t around. It’s aesthetics. Really.
But when he is around, all those years melt away. (Horrah! Not — repeat not — complaining.) Just a bit puzzled. Does anyone know what it is about the smell of bread dough that’s so effin sexy? You’d think it would conger up cozy family images, mom, dad, kids around a warm fire in December. Nope. Lust. Sex. Gobs of fun. I may not figure it out, but I’ll enjoy trying. And the bread tastes good too. If anyone has thoughts, I’m all ears… so to speak.